


Fear

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 15:00:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,313
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11337852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Sometimes at night you just can not stop thinking.





	Fear

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Fear by SR

Sent: Friday, July 30, 1999 6:45 AM  
RATING: PG; M/K.   
SPOILERS: Would be safe to assume all Krycek episodes.  
SUMMARY: Sometimes at night you just can not stop thinking.  
FEEDBACK: Unfortunately SR does not really get to check email during the summer. Please send all feedback via .   
THANKS TO: Beta readers Chris and LP  
DISCLAIMERS: None of these characters or anything having to do with the Xfiles belong to the author-- All belong to the gods who call themselves Chris Carter, Fox, and Ten-thirteen.

* * *

Fear  
by SR

I watch the sun as it rises, standing to the side of the windows in this cheap motel, looking out through the partially closed blinds, unseen by the outside world. It's amazing how the days seem to start anew. A fresh start, a clean slate every day. But not for me. I don't get that luxury. No, I tell myself, no one does, really. The decisions I made yesterday, and the day before that, and the day before that control the decisions I make today. Today's decisions affect tomorrow. I sigh. If only the world was as simple as it seems. If only I didn't know exactly how complex it is. 

It's the simple things that make it complex. Lost in my thoughts and the view from the window, I vacantly watch the sky turn pink and orange as the sun moves farther into the sky. It seems that nothing is stronger than this, this bright orange ball of fire before me. But I realize that this new sun, rising over a trusting world, wanes quickly, lasting just a few hours, fading into a vast network of stars and planets that crowd the night sky. So many trying to shine the brightest, only to lose to a new sun when the morning comes, the cycle starting again. The old fall as the new rise. I shake my head and shift my weight onto my left foot, and lean against the wall. 

People think that they can control their lives, their destiny. But they can't. If it's not some government guiding them, then it's the laws of nature. I used to think I could change the world, that I had some kind of control. After a while, I realized I couldn't, that I had no control. Sure, I can adapt, survive, learn how to manipulate the world around me, but I can't determine my fate. There's too many other people trying to get ahead in life, ready to push me into the undertow. My life is in their hands. There is always someone that wins, someone that can control fate, but only for a brief time because the power is lost easily. There is always someone stronger than yourself. 

So I gave up. Forgot about fighting to live. Decided I'd just go with it. Learn to switch sides and move with the current. Exert my own power and tower over the people who were weaker than myself. But something, or should I say, someone, threw a kink into my newfound philosophy. And before I knew it, I was back, struggling in the undertow, gasping for breath. Trying to stop my fate. 

With my bare back against the wall, I turn and look at the rumpled bed behind me, at the man sprawled in the center. And I realize that it was beyond my control. That it was going to happen sometime. The powers controlling us forced us together. And while I was trying to steer clear of him, trying to change my destiny, I should have given in to it. It was only a matter of time. Years of repressed desire, heightened by his anger. Of course, he was fighting it, too. So when we finally gave in, let ourselves go, we were consumed by it. Nothing could sate our appetite for each other. And we still keep coming back to this. Even as I watch him sleep, still tired and sore from last night, I am aware of how much I want him. How much I want to tangle my limbs with his in that too soft bed with the nondescript white motel sheets. I lean my head against the wall and put my hands over my eyes.

At the same time, I am aware of how much I fear. I fear him, what he will tell me when he wakes. Will he be sullenly quiet or yell at me? Will he say goodbye? Acknowledge me at all? I fear, or know, that I have nothing to give, nothing that he could possibly want. Just the means to quell this strange need he feels to be with me, if only for a night. But I also fear how much I have to lose. Not only my life, which I would if the men who are our enemies were to find me here with him. But also my soul. I may have already given it to him. The brief glimpses I see of him, the real him, fill me with longing. Desire that can't be dispelled by a night in some crummy motel in Denver or wherever he is following a case. When I'm away from him I feel hollow. Empty. So, I follow him. Track him. Steal him away for as long as I can, lure him with secrets. I usually get a couple of hours, but when I'm lucky, like last night, I get an entire night. But as soon as I feel that desire fulfilled, when I feel whole again, another feeling arises. I fear that he'll leave me for good. Refuse to see me. And where will I be then?

Looking at him, I think about how complex he is. But his complexity lies in his simplicity. He needs food, he eats. He wants the truth, he searches for it, trying everything until he finds it. He needs sex, he finds me. Or I find him. When he has an emotion, he locates it in the swirling mass of his brain, and shows it. He doesn't hide or pretend to be something he's not. His goal is simple. Find Samantha, beat the Consortium, save the world. He believes that he can control his destiny. When something goes wrong, he looks for ways to make it right. Despite the risks. If he must die to find the truth, to save people, so be it. Life is what he makes of it. When the others knock him down, steal his work, kill his family and friends, he doesnt fall into the undertow. He doesnt get caught up. He continues. When he does waver, and almost gives up, something reminds him of his goal, and he continues. He spits in his enemies faces, and never kisses ass. He will never back down.

I move closer to the bed. Standing above, looking down, I hear his steady breathing. I brush my hand through his hair, feeling the soft strands as they run through my fingers. Somewhere in my mind I know that this can't keep happening. He will stop needing me. And I fear the end. He knows that this temptation will destroy our lives. If anyone knew, both of us would pay. He would lose his job, his life's work, and probably his best friend. And I would lose him. And my life. But I cannot leave him. He has to be the one to break it off. I will not fight these feelings. I've learned I must sink or swim, and I'm doing all I can to stay afloat. I'll stay close by him, whether or not he knows I'm there. And if I have to die to save him, to save his determined, stubborn, amazing self, I will. Because he is what I'm not. I am what he never should be. And I'll make sure he never has to.


End file.
